


Mycroft's Reaction

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Series: The Holmes Boys [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Molly Hooper, Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Feels, Post-Season/Series 04, Protective Mycroft, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22613173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: A look at Mycroft's reaction during the events of 'If I could Help', a lot of fluffy stuff between the Holmes brothers
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes
Series: The Holmes Boys [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627030
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	Mycroft's Reaction

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Like I said, I'll write pieces based on the first story, any scenes you want to see from a different perspective! :)

‘I don’t care if it’s difficult, find him!’ Mycroft snarled it, spitting the words out so aggressively that the poor man flinched, scurried out of the room like he feared what Mycroft would do. But the Holmes didn’t care, couldn’t find it in him to worry if he was acting irrationally. He paced the room, trying to think of anything but his missing brother. Molly Hooper had been recovered, was currently just as distraught as he was.

Sherlock was missing. Nobody had found him, dead or alive, and that was worse than knowing. Because, at this very moment, Mycroft still had hope. He needed his brother to be alive, to apologise for everything he had done wrong. He couldn’t be dead, otherwise that would be on Mycroft’s hands. He had been the one to let Moriarty go, to bring him to Sherrinford, to not check that he definitely was dead after Sherlock faked his own.

The Doctor that his brother was so fond of was currently sitting with Molly, he could see them on the monitor in front. Molly Hooper was quite a lady, he thought, perfectly suited for his brother’s quick-witted mind. Just like John, they possessed an ability to get him to see things in a different mind, could bring forth emotions that Mycroft had been foolish enough to tell Sherlock to bury. He’d thought it would make his brother smarter, to keep him safe, to stop him from remembering everything that happened when he was a child.

If Sherlock was dead, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. His parents would never speak to him again. The Doctor would hate him. He’d be forever remembered as the brother that gave everything for his country, including sacrificing his brother. And he didn’t want that, not anymore, he wanted Sherlock back. Mycroft took a deep breath, shuddering as he raised a hand to his face to wipe tears away.

‘Sir?’ He spun, looked to the person in the doorway with a sinking feeling in his gut, making him wish he hadn't drunk that coffee.

‘Tell me.’ Was all he asked, bracing himself for the blow.

‘Sherlock’s alive, Sir. Critical, but alive.’ There had to be a God up above, Mycroft thought as he sobbed out a breath, clutching at the edge of the table and thanking anyone listening.

**

His brother looked awful. Mycroft knew the Doctor was watching, knew that John wasn’t going to leave the room. He didn’t have long, Molly would be back soon, and Mycroft would never show such emotion in front of her. John Watson, however, had seen him at his worst. Had been in Sherrinford, risked everything for the Holmes family. So, Mycroft considered him part of it, although he would never say that to the man.

‘Oh, Sherlock.’ He reached out, fingers brushing through dark curls, moving down to trace his bruised cheek. They hadn't been close in a while, since Mycroft turned Sherlock away after Eurus burned down the family home. He’d been convinced that it would get better with time, the absence of the only person who could comfort him in a way that he appreciated. They were the same, both too smart to require normal comfort.

He found himself reaching for Sherlock’s bandaged hand, lingering at the touch, trying to convince himself that his brother would be fine. He had to be.

**

Molly Hooper seemed to have an effect on Sherlock, for the moment he woke up, everything fell into panic. John was trying to get his brother to stay on the bed, while Sherlock’s monitors told him that he was close to damaging levels if he kept this up. Mycroft wanted to go to his side, to hold his brother and comfort him, but he also didn’t know how. Not when there were so many people watching.

Then the Nurse suggested drugging him. And just the thought was enough for him to turn, anger lacing his words as he glared at the woman. He knew, on some basic level, that what she was saying was correct. Sherlock risked injuring himself, if he continued. It didn’t stop the words leaving his mouth, though.

‘If you even so much as try to get close to my brother with a needle, I will personally shove it into you instead.’ He then turned to the door, trusting Molly Hooper to have not gone far.

‘MOLLY!’ What Sherlock needed, was reassurance. And, as soon as the woman came running into the room, barging past Mycroft without a care, he knew his little brother had it. Sherlock’s eyes went wide, looked at her as if trying to judge that she really was alive, and then a small smile formed.

He then promptly passed out.

**

‘You’ll get better.’ Mycroft remarked, watched his baby brother’s anger build. He was frustrated, his fingers unable to control the violin in the way he would like. It sounded scratchy, like when Sherlock had first learnt to play, and Mycroft couldn’t help himself. He stood up, walked across to where Sherlock looked like he was about to break something, took the Violin from his grip and placed it down, taking Sherlock’s hand and beginning to bend and stretch his fingers.

‘What are you doing?’ It wasn’t accusatory, Sherlock seemed… surprised. Maybe he didn’t remember Mycroft doing this when they were children.

‘Do you not…’

‘I remember.’ Mycroft didn’t offer anything else, just focused on the task that he used to do when a tiny Sherlock was curled up on his lap, fingers rough from pressing the strings. Sherlock gripped his hand, stopped him from continuing, and Mycroft feared he had overstepped. Apparently not, because all his little brother did was guide them to the sofa. Mycroft did hesitate now, unsure that he should be allowed this close when all he did was seem to put Sherlock in danger.

But Sherlock lay down, rested his head in Mycroft’s lap, before giving him back the hand that had been cramping.

If Doctor Watson later entered the flat to find Mycroft slowly stroking Sherlock’s hair while he slept, tucked up with a blanket against him, then he said nothing about it. Mycroft was determined, he wasn’t going to let Sherlock hide away anymore, not from him. It was time that he started looking after his little brother, like he should have done when Moriarty first cam, rather than leaving Sherlock to deal with it by himself.

He was, after all, the big brother.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see any other bits in detail/chapters following up from Sherlock's recovery, please drop a comment!


End file.
